I hate standing on the sidelines. But when the time comes, that’s what I do.

Actually, that’s what a lot of people do. From the 1964 White Knight murders of three civil rights workers in the American South to the recent rape case at a Steubenville public high school in Ohio, the bystander effect has been a huge part of every human society.

A few days ago, I was in Chinatown when a bicyclist tipped over in the middle of a busy street. His backpack spilled open, his glasses flew off, and I saw everything in a sort of trance. Despite the whizzing cars, everyone around me ran to the stranger — it took me a good while before I followed.

While the man drew a comfortable crowd, I was so frustrated with myself. Why couldn’t I just run and help this man?

Fear grips me in the time of need. While I look up to superheroes, those glorified individuals that muster up bottomless courage like it is second nature, I see how their gallant actions bring dire consequences.

But like always, human nature seems to take over. When these heroes take a stand, they suffer some sort of blame that they wouldn’t have gone through without breaking out of that bystander effect.

It makes me wonder … why do it then? If there’s more of a risk to lend a hand than to walk on by, what’s my motivation to help besides the knowledge that it is the right thing to do?

Way back during the infamous 1692 Salem witch trials, a group of young Puritan women began to act strangely, accusing village enemies and neighbors of being “witches.”

The immature lies slowly grew into mass hysteria and led to the execution of 19 innocent people, including John Proctor, a man who stepped out from the bystanders and tried to stop the manhunt.

While I don’t condone the false accusations, I understand why so many did not step out and try to save people from the witch hunt — they didn’t want to end up like John Proctor. Speaking out is honorable, but it may not be the best thing to do. Going against the majority would mean thrusting their loved ones and themselves into the spotlight — the truth could strangle the people they care about.

Standing on the side is an escape from the danger, an automatic shield from the raging battle going on in the middle. It’s a sure, safe way to avoid worsening a situation and protect loved ones and yourself.

The respectable, obvious choice is to break out of the shell and play hero, swooping down to rescue the victim from the approaching peril. Of course, that’s the right thing to do: It’s what parents have taught us. It’s the “good” choice, the one that’ll earn me pats on the back and enlightening words of praise.

In 2011, a woman crossed a metal barricade above Vernal Fall, Yosemite, and slipped into the raging Merced River. So did the two men who reached out and tried to save her.

Instead of receiving medals and cheers for their heroic attempt, they got ice-cold water and blackness.

The rest of the hikers screamed and screamed, but didn’t make a move toward the three floating figures. But does that mean the onlookers were weak or spineless?

No. With good reason, these bystanders were afraid of the 317-foot drop and well aware of the “stay away from water” signs. Retreating was the next best option. Even though it’s distressing to watch a nearby individual face danger, sometimes you can’t do anything for them and should prevent others and yourself from succumbing to the same fate.

While many associate bystanders with cowards, they are not synonymous.

The bystander can be a different sort of hero, the one who double-checks her actions, thinks before he acts and is careful to take care of others in the heat of the moment.

It’s not so much about saving someone in front of you, but knowing when you cannot positively contribute to the situation. It’s about swallowing innate desires to save the condemned.

That takes a different kind of bravery — the kind that’s already wired in our brains, but for some reason, is mistakenly looked down upon.